


If Not, Winter

by daisygrl



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, First Date, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, So does Mary, Spellwell - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Useless Lesbians, Zelda Spellman Needs A Hug, Zelda Spellman is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisygrl/pseuds/daisygrl
Summary: Zelda Spellman and Mary Wardwell come to terms with their feelings for one another.





	If Not, Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the title from "If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho" tr. Anne Carson

“Excuse me?”

Sabrina sighed. “Ms. Wardwell, auntie. She asked about you again today.” Zelda simply stared in response, eyes wide. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Finally, Hilda stepped in.

“You look like a goldfish, Zelds.”

Zelda shut her eyes slowly. The situation was unravelling. She had never shown the slightest interest in Sabrina’s teacher. At least, not outwardly. Nor did her family have any reason to believe she had set her sights on any woman,  _ ever _ . Her preference for the fairer sex and an increasingly intense crush on Sabrina’s teacher had been her burdens to bear alone until the latter inevitably fizzled out. Apparently, she hadn’t been as subtle as she had hoped. She rubbed her temple and sighed. “How did you know?”

Sabrina feigned innocence, but a flash of mirth betrayed her true intentions. She was going to milk this. “Know what, auntie? Ow!” She rubbed her arm where Hilda had smacked her playfully with a dish towel.

“Enough, Sabrina.” Hilda’s tone was firm, but she sent her niece a subtle wink. “Honestly Zelda, how could you think we wouldn’t figure it out? You only ask about Mary every other day.”

Mary. Of course. She had been using her first name. Any idiot with an ounce of intuition could have figured it out. Zelda felt warm all of a sudden. She stood suddenly, her chair scraping the tile floor. “I’m going to bed.” Sabrina tried to get up to follow her, but was stopped by Hilda’s hand on her arm. Out of the corner of her eye, Zelda saw Hilda shake her head.

Safely in front of her vanity, Zelda permitted herself a moment of giddiness, punctuated occasionally by horror at the idea that everyone now knew something about her that she had thoroughly intended to keep private. So, Mary was asking about her. The crimson lipstick she had swiped on in her car before the parent-teacher conference had obviously done the trick. She smirked at herself. Hilda had been taken aback by Zelda’s eagerness to attend, given that she generally shirked anything to do with Sabrina’s mortal schooling.

Unbeknownst to the rest of her family, Zelda had been eyeing her niece’s teacher for months. Ms. Wardwell’s increased presence at the mortuary around the time of Sabrina's baptism had immediately aroused Zelda’s suspicion. And eventually, her interest. Under Lilith’s control, the parade of slinky dresses and vampy makeup had been undeniably striking. In all honesty though, it had been a bit much for Zelda’s taste. She preferred Mary’s style; masses of thick hair pulled back in a bun, glasses sliding halfway down her nose. She loved the warm tartan skirts that Mary liked to pair with hand-knitted cardigans, and the way that her hair looked like a mane after it had spent all day straining under various clips and pins.

Underneath this unassuming exterior was an exceptionally sharp and inquisitive mind. Not to mention a delightfully wicked sense of humour. Mary seemed unaware of the fact that she was one of the school’s most popular teachers, and that only made her all the more captivating. Zelda loved listening to her talk about the way she engaged with her pupils, the fact that she could hold her own in a room full of teenagers, and the acerbic wit that she occasionally unleashed on an unsuspecting jock. She commanded respect, and that respect was unfailingly mutual. Though her pride precluded her from admitting this, Zelda had implemented some of Mary’s suggestions at the Academy, and she had been pleasantly surprised at their effectiveness.

Zelda began to brush out her long hair, stopping every so often when she came to a knot. Lilith only knew at what point her crush had spiralled so absurdly out of control. She hadn’t felt this way in years. Maybe ever. Part of her wanted nothing more than to stamp it out and take what was left of her secret to the grave. Another, bigger part of her whined in lonely, fearful desperation, needing Mary to know and hoping against hope that the other woman might feel the same way about her.

In the few months since Mary had been returned to her original state, Zelda had stopped by her small cottage dozens of times. The Queen of Hell was embroiled in the beginnings of a war, quelling minor rebellions and quashing rogue battalions of minor demons, and she had had little time to attend to matters on earth. Zelda had dedicated herself to investigating the after-effects of Liliths’ brief sojourn in the mortal world, and making sure Mary wouldn’t commit the story to paper and subsequently get herself branded a deranged lunatic had become an urgent priority. 

To her great surprise, however, Mary already knew exactly what had happened to her. She was aware of the existence of witches, and had committed much of her free time both before and after her possession to privately documenting the history of covens in New England. She had studied the origins of rituals _Zelda_ had never heard of before. The best part was that Mary was genuinely, if skittishly, curious about Zelda’s powers. The first time Zelda used magic in front of her, she snapped her fingers to produce a small, black flame. Mary’s delight and enthusiasm at the demonstration had just about melted Zelda’s heart. Long after she could have stopped checking in on her charge, Zelda continued to come back, plied by Mary’s offers of dinner and freshly baked cookies.

Tonight was one of those nights. Zelda applied a swipe of lipstick and a spritz of perfume, carefully doling out the scent so that it would be evenly distributed among her neck, wrists and hair without seeming too deliberate. She tossed her hair behind her and admired herself in the mirror for a moment. Vanity was the False God's hang-up. 

She pulled on a fur and was about to step across the threshold when the sound of footsteps on the staircase stopped her in her tracks. They were too heavy to be Sabrina's. Could it be Hilda? If so, where was the unmistakable click of kitten heels?

Ambrose materialized in the doorway, silencing Zelda's line of inquiry. They eyed each other for a moment, neither one wanting to broach the topic at hand. Finally, Ambrose shifted slightly and cleared his throat.

"I just wanted to check in. See how you were doing." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you...going somewhere, auntie?"

Zelda tilted her chin up. "I am. And I likely won't be back until much later tonight, so don't wait up." Confident that she had divulged enough information to avoid the conversation Ambrose seemed to want to have, she tried to breeze past, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder. 

"Auntie."

She sighed. "What is it, Ambrose?" Dark brown eyes, wide with concern, seemed to insist on meeting her own. 

“I just...wanted to make sure you knew that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re your family, we love you, and no one is laughing at you behind your back at the dinner table.” He paused for a moment to check her reaction. “I, for one, really hope it works out with Mary. She’s sweet.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly before letting go. “You deserve someone sweet.”

Zelda felt a pang of shame, but it was quickly supplanted by a pleasant and unfamiliar warmth. Her nephew’s words had somehow eased a tension she hadn’t realized she had been carrying, and the foreignness of the feeling made tears spring into her eyes. She quickly pulled Ambrose into a tight hug, surprising both of them.Then, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed, she turned aggressively on her heel and strode down the hall, ignoring the look of bewilderment on her nephew’s face.

A storm was just beginning as Zelda made her way out of the house and towards the hearse. Freezing rain and sharp pellets -  _ hail? _ \- lashed against her face and hands. Once behind the wheel, she allowed herself a moment to compose herself, fiddling nervously with the keys.  _ Get it together. If tonight’s not the night, so be it. You can try again next time. _ The thought only made her more nervous. She put the heat on, and was met with a frigid blast. She rolled her eyes. _ Forgot to fix the damn thing _ .

***

Mary was putting the finishing touches on a coq au vin when she heard the crunch of gravel outside her cottage. She wiped her hands on her apron and strode to the door, knowing that Zelda would be in a foul mood because of the rain. _ If only she knew how pretty she looks when she’s mildly disheveled _ . Mary shook her head as if to banish the thought. The redheaded witch had been at the forefront of her mind for months, but Mary couldn’t afford to let Zelda  _ know _ that. She had noticed that her visits had increased in frequency recently, but she couldn’t very well attribute that to some kind of attraction that she suspected, on her side, was becoming disturbingly apparent. 

A quick rap at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Coming!” She opened the door to a miserable Zelda, soaked through and shaking from the cold. “Good Lord, it’s cats and dogs out there!” 

Zelda winced a little at the expression but let it pass. “Yes, it’s positively divine. I’m sorry I’m so late.” She squeezed Mary’s upper arm and walked past her into the cottage, muttering a short incantation to dry herself off. Mary watched in wonder as her hair regained its usual volume and the puddles that had formed at her feet evaporated on their own. She turned around and produced a bottle of wine, thrusting it at Mary with an endearing eagerness. “Here you are. It’s a favourite of mine from the collection downstairs.”

Mary took the bottle from her, adjusting her glasses in order to read the label. It was dusty and faded so that the date was no longer discernible. “You shouldn’t have! It looks incredible. But…” she waved her hand towards the dinner table, which was elaborately set and included two very full glasses of red. 

“No matter,” Zelda replied briskly, “we can save mine for dessert. What are we having?”

Mary smiled. “You mentioned last time we met that Greendale has nothing that passes for edible French food, so I decided to try my hand at a coq au vin.” 

Zelda smiled. “You remembered.” 

Mary nodded. Though she would have been just as happy ordering a pizza, she loved the way Zelda talked about wine, and French food, and the fact that she had obviously worn her best velvet dress and a real string of pearls just for their dinner. On another person, it would have seemed overly elaborate and even gratuitous. In Zelda’s case, though, her taste for finer things and her passion for food, fashion, literature and theatre were almost completely genuine. However, there was a small part of Mary that suspected that Zelda strove to appear as cultured and sophisticated as she did in order to impress her. It worked, of course - but it was the effort she put in that made it all the more endearing.

Her favourite moments with Zelda occurred on the rare occasions that she managed to relax. The times she was open and startlingly vulnerable served to puncture her generally impenetrable demeanour, and Mary treasured them. She suspected they happened altogether too rarely. Underneath her carefully constructed armour was a deeply tender and sensitive heart, protected with caustic sarcasm and sometimes even with a careless cruelty directed at her family members that Zelda clearly regretted but couldn’t seem to shake.

They sat down at the dinner table, the earthy aroma of poached mushrooms and rich, peppery sauce hovering in the air. “This looks amazing, Mary. Thank you.” Zelda tucked in with zeal, clearly enjoying herself. Several minutes passed in comfortable silence. At one point, Zelda leaned forward and touched Mary’s hand. “By the way, you never did tell me what happened with that boy in your class who was giving you so much trouble.”

Mary laughed, pretending not to notice the gesture and her racing heartbeat. “I got tired of convincing him to learn Romeo’s lines for the final project, and decided to try and figure out why he was being so stubborn. So I asked him to come see me during lunch a couple of days ago, and I learned pretty quickly that his girlfriend had broken up with him earlier that week and that learning lines from Shakespeare’s great romance was no longer on his radar.” She shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I lent him my copy of Hamlet and it seemed to work like a charm.” 

Zelda shook her head. “I suppose my suggestion would have been a bit too extreme.”

Mary smiled. “If I ever decide that one of my students would benefit from being transformed into a small rodent, you'll be the first to know.”

***

The evening passed by quickly, and the logs on the fire had just about burned down into ash when Mary leaned back and yawned. Both women were tipsy from the wine and conversation meandered naturally between them, only reaching a comfortable lull several hours into dinner. “I hate to be the first one to break this up, but I do have to teach a class in the morning, and it’s not going to be easy as it is.”

Zelda was feeling particularly bold. The glasses that Mary had filled and refilled coloured her cheeks with a deep flush, and she gazed at Mary with a fervent longing, begging her silently to read her mind so that she wouldn’t have to say what she was thinking.  _ It's now or never _ . She extended one leg and ran her stiletto heel up and down Mary’s leg, considering how lovely their bodies would look tangled up in Mary’s sheets. She looked up to meet her eyes, her voice low and husky. “What if I spent the night here with you?” 

She immediately regretted her question when Mary cast her eyes downward, avoiding her gaze and taking a long, silent minute to answer. Zelda’s thoughts spiraled in every direction, and her heart seemed to sink down into the pit of her stomach.  _ Why did I say that? She doesn’t like women. _ And then, a quiet voice from the deepest and most unforgiving corners of her subconscious; a voice she tried hard to repress. _ She doesn’t like me. _ She shook her head vehemently, but this time it would not be silenced.  _ She deserves better. And I certainly don’t deserve her. _

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

Zelda didn't say anything. She stood abruptly, grabbed her coat, and closed the distance between her and the door, shutting it hard behind her.

***

“Zelda, wait!” Mary readjusted her skirt and chased after her guest. Zelda had made it to the hearse, hastily lighting a cigarette as she clambered through the deep puddles on the gravel path. Her hair whipped around in the wind and rain, and it was impossible to tell whether the mascara running down her cheeks was because of the weather or because she had started to cry. Mary felt a pang of guilt. “Please. Don’t go.”

Zelda was huffing angrily on her cigarette. She stayed quiet for a moment, then exhaled harshly, letting out a billowing cloud of smoke. She tossed her stub onto the ground and dug it into the dirt with her heel. “Why shouldn’t I? I’ve completely humiliated myself.” She whimpered softly, but managed to steady her voice in order to deliver the final blow. “I’ve been throwing myself at you like some hopeless...  _ schoolgirl _ , and you’ve been letting it happen. And now, to find out that my feelings for you have been _ completely _ one-sided…” Her face crumpled and she turned away, covering her mouth with one hand as if to contain the quiet sobs that were escaping anyway. Mary approached her and took her by her other hand, which Zelda promptly snatched away. 

“Please,” Mary begged, voice tinged with desperation. “You’ve misunderstood. It’s not that I don’t like you! In fact, it’s the opposite. I’ve loved you every minute since you first appeared at my door all those months ago and introduced yourself. “I-” Her voice cracked. “I’ve just been  _ scared _ .” She drew a shuddering breath and continued, not meeting Zelda’s eyes. “Of moving too quickly, of not giving either of us enough time to process what was happening. I know you haven’t told me everything about what your ex-husband did to you, but I sensed that you needed time in order to be able to trust someone else when it came to intimacy. And what happened to Adam while I was away...” she broke off, her voice suddenly laced with a weary bitterness. “I needed time, too.”

Zelda looked at her for a moment. Her chin quivered slightly, and she tilted her head up in an effort to regain composure. When she finally found her voice, it was so soft that Mary had to strain in order to hear. “One day, though?”

Mary shook her head and smiled gently, tucking a strand of Zelda’s wet, frozen hair behind her ear. “Perhaps we could start today.” 

She tilted Zelda’s chin up and kissed her, noting with relief that Zelda’s body was no longer as tense as it had been before. She seemed to melt into Mary’s touch, as if she had been waiting forever to be held and had grown tired of pretending that this was not the case. When they broke apart, Mary cleared her throat, dazed and exhilarated. “I invited you to this dinner under the pretense of friendship and nothing more, but what would you say if we made it our first date?”

Zelda smirked at her through her tears, a little bit of her usual bravado making a marked return. “Only if you agree to open the bottle of wine I brought you. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion since the 1890s.”

Mary laughed. “You’re telling me that nothing happened throughout the entirety of the twentieth century that merited the opening of that bottle?”

Zelda shook her head. “Not like this.”


End file.
